


Sirens

by MidNightStories



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Death, Eventual Happy Ending, Existential Crisis, Heaven & Hell, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-02-28 02:28:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13261704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidNightStories/pseuds/MidNightStories
Summary: There is no way of knowing where people go once their hearts stop beating on their own and their brain takes its final strive until it ultimately no longer exists. There is no way of Stiles knowing where his mother is. Or where a little girl with brown hair and green eyes is. Or where a woman not past twenty with the same hair but a deeper set of hazel eyes is. Or where anyone is....It happens when Stiles is doing one of the most mundane tasks he could think of-- drinking coffee at Beacon Hills one and only localy owned cafe. He sits and thinks not for the first time about the frailness of human life and the overbearing weight of the unknown. And then he hears it.Sirens.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Trigger Warning*  
> I don't go into it too deeply, at least not yet, but there is brief mentioning about suicide/ self harm within this chapter and it may become a reoccuring topic within further chapters. Read at your own discression and I won't be offended if you decide to not continue reading it if it bothers you. It's up to you my darlings, your mental and physical health are the main priorities, Ill always apply these warning when need be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy here I go making another story when I have others yet to complete/work on. But if I can be completely honest with you all, I tend to be indecisive and not too confident with what I type. Granted, it has been more than a year for some of the things I've posted, but just looking back on them makes me sorta sad and disapointed because I truly don't like what I write. So I'll be taking a break from past stories (there's only three so it's not much) and work on this one. If you would like, you can wait until this one is finished because this a promise that I will finish this one and be god damn proud of it. So cheers to the new year and leave comments, opinions, kudos and subscribe if you wanna :)

Stiles had never seriously contemplated ending his life.

At least not for the reasons one would assume. Granted, he has been given enough reason in this lifetime that if the incident would ever occur, no person would have to ask themselves of why. If one were to try to summarize the reason these thoughts so habitually find themselves in Stiles seventeen year old mind, if one were to strive to break away all layers and break it into the simplistics, to the fundamentals, they would easily find it was none other than curiosity. A curiousness so intense and vile, so like a wound that has been festering for years and has finally embalmed him whole, that he is truly amazed none of the wolves he runs with can sense it. A feeling that just a few days prior caused Stiles to push his blade from the razor deeper than necessary. As if searching for a pressure point, for a vein that would cut his interest right at the source.

But the idea soon fleeted as quickly as it came and he easily reasoned the wound as an accident when Scott questioned him that morning. He realized, after each brief encounter with that thought process, he did not want to die. Not wanting to leave his father to his own devices, and Scott and Melissa to their grief, were one of the main reasons. If not those, then purely for the fact that Stiles did not want to die. Despite this, despite his surety on the matter, he was still disposed to these moments of doubts. These moments where even he feared he would stumble so far deep into this obsession he’s created--because that’s what all of this was. An obsession. One he’s entangled himself long past the point of recognition. He no longer knew where the obsession ended and he began.

It scares him.

Not that he needs help. Contrary to popular belief, Stiles is not depressed. He is not guilt ridden at the things he’s done with his hands in moments where his body was not his own. He is not biting his nails at the thought of going to sleep--not anymore. And he is not at odds ends with those around him. If he were being honest, things haven’t ever been so… normal. That is at least what he assumes is happening. Because it’s been over a month since the alpha pack officially disseminated right in front of his eyes. Been even longer since Stiles had a nightmare related to katanas and fireflies and blood. He might not be fully healed, (the sight and smell of blood still leaves him frozen) but he is better. They are all better. At least, that’s what he thought.

What if he wasn’t?

Stiles swallows down the more ketchup than french fry and shuts the ideas in his head for the time being. Scott was in the middle of talking about Derek. Again.

“It’s not like I’m asking for much.” Scott reasons, taking a sip of his fruit punch as if what he was saying was completely obvious. “What is so hard about him just coming over to my house for meetings instead of whatever train wreck he chooses?”

Stiles stills at this, remembering the time where they discussed a game lacrosse at one of these literal trainwrecks. It was an abandoned subway station, but same thing really.

“Maybe it’s some sort of territorial thing?” Stiles suggests, taking another bite of a too crisp fry. “Sorta like giving you an inch of deciding where we talk takes an inch of his power?”

Scott scowls at that and Stiles honestly feels the need to apologize. Not because he feels like he did something wrong but simply because Scott is that good. How was Derek able to say no to that face?

“That’s stupid. I think he just wants to avoid my mom. She yelled at him a couple days ago, you know?” He admits as if this was the most common of knowledge even though no, this was definitely not common knowledge. He didn’t even know where Derek was currently residing so there was also a question of how she even found him. God knows Stiles hasn’t been able to.

“No, no I don’t know.” Stiles inputs, waiting for Scott to further explain.

“Well, I wasn’t really even there in the first place. I came home after hanging out with Allison and she told me Derek stopped by. And then mentioned she had a… “talk” with him.” Stiles is not even joking when he says Scott made the gestures around the word talk. It would have even been funny if it wasn’t for the fact that Scott just admitted that Derek sought _him_ out while he simply ignored Stiles.

“Okay, but how do you know it was a yelling talk, rather than a “I want what’s best for my son” talk?”

Scott grimaces at Stiles’ suggestion as if his mom would never have a gentle talk like that, and finishes his fries.

“Because Derek texted afterwards and said that my house was a big no no since he wouldn’t really feel welcome.” Scott finishes his milk then and Stiles is just about to ask if Derek changed his number when the bell rings.

Scott, as if noticing Stiles still had more on his mind, asked what he was about to say. Swallowing the question, Stiles says it wasn’t important and they both make their way to chemistry.

Stiles doesn’t pay attention, too busy wondering why Derek seems to be ignoring him and only him.

*                             *                             *

He doesn’t mention Derek to Scott again. It seems almost anti progressive for him to start caring about someone who threatened him almost daily just a couple months ago. But that thought gets put into the back burner for a later time, preferably never, as Erica mentions how she and Isaac both seem to be struggling in English. Stiles, feeling guilty about not paying much attention to her in the beginning, agrees to a study session after school in order to prep for the upcoming test. There’s a gleam in her eyes and Stiles contemplates telling her there’s a ninety-seven percent chance he’ll let her down because English isn’t his strong suit. He almost suggests her to Lydia instead until he remembers the reason he said yes in the first place.

“Boyd will drop us off after school around four, is that okay with you?”

“Sounds good. I’ll order pizza.” Stiles suggests.

“God bless you Stiles.” Erica exclaims as the dramatic woman she is.

All the same, Stiles smiles at Erica, proud of her and how close they’ve grown. He can never be as grateful as the day she and Boyd came back, a bit bruised, but whole with hearts beating.

God knows how much of a rarity that has become in his life.

*                             *                             *

As promised, Erica and Isaac show up a four on the dot and Stiles smiles as he opens the door for them. He and Boyd share a wave as he then drives back out into the open road.

“Boyd said he gets enough of English at school and even I’m not worth anymore of it.” Erica pouts, but both of them know that she is the most important thing in that man’s life. And he and hers. He’s happy for her, he’s happy for them and there won’t ever be a day he won’t be.

“As if Boyd needs help in English” Isaac says as the three make their way to Stiles’ room. He’s not an animal. He cleaned up his room enough to be presentable to other teenagers but can’t help the itch under his skin. It has been a while since someone other than Scott has been in his room and even that has become a rarity since all of the Allison stuff. But he tries to clip the anxiety since he knows the two teens won’t mind. Nothing is out of the usual, and nothing has changed since the last time the two were in his room. Except maybe a couple of added books in his shelf to keep his curiosity at bay.

A majority of those books were personal works of those who suffered near death experience, or died and came back to life. Although if you ask him, they all sounded like lies. Like someone was writing it and only put together what they thought would sound good. What they thought they could sell. And he’s read so many varying descriptions of God that he began to doubt the figure was real.

“But I can kick his ass in calculus any day.” Erica smirked and Stiles was brought back to his room and the two occupants in it. He did away with the concern of his bookshelf since he was almost certain they wouldn’t notice the new additions.

“Let’s start this, the sooner we start, the quicker we get pizza.” Stiles practically bribed.

 

 

Going over the material was simple. This unit of English was mainly about rhetorical analysis and identifying rhetorical devices. Essentially, it was very heavy on terminology, knowing what means what and what it looks like put into a sentence. What came to be difficult was getting that information to stick. Stiles had repeated the definition of anaphora almost twenty times (he's been counting) only to find Isaac confusing it with an appositive and Erica to struggle to answer at all. The mood was shifting, and he could tell the betas were getting frustrated. Not with him, but with themselves.

“I think we all deserve pizza.” Stiles sighed, and went to grab a menu.

“Thank the lord, I’ve been starving.”

 

 

They all decided that it had been enough and agreed on meeting once more tomorrow, considering the test was on Friday and it was only Tuesday. With that, the two betas left with promise of Chinese food tomorrow too. Stiles is in the midst of starting his European history essay which was due the next morning when he hears it. 

It's the more than familiar sound of his window being shimmied open and Stiles has the strength to not turn around. He knows well who it is and decides to not deem them with a response. Depite Stiles clearly giving a shit about that happens to lives other than his own, it repeatedly becomes apparent that that can't be said about the intruder. The intruder who Stiles has been rigurously attempting to contact only to find himself ignored. And contrary to popular belief, Stiles can take a hint. Derek obviously wants nothing to do with him.

So why the hell is he here?


	2. Balance

"We need to talk."

The statement itself made Stiles want to laugh. It wasn't funny. Stiles is just a sucker for irony if he were being honest, and nothing is more ironic than the person who has been ignoring you for weeks sneaking into your bedroom because they need to talk.

"Do we? If we did, I'm pretty sure you would have answered my texts. Or my calls. Or you know, opened the door when I knocked."

Stiles knew he was being difficult but he felt is was rather justified. Derek had gotten accustomed, Stiles too had gotten far too complacent in the midst of whatever it was. It was easy to forget Stiles deserved understanding, deserved respect. In a world where teenagers died more often than not. In a world where he'd given up dreams of prom nights and late night parties for nightmares and nemetons. Where he set eyes on his childhood friend only for her to be sacrificed at the hands of a druid. Stiles wondered constantly if Heather was at peace. If having your life taken and offered to the nemeton somehow screwed with the natural order of things.

Where was Heather now?

"It wasn't like that." Is what Derek decides to reply. As if that was going to swiftly end the conversation.

Turning around to finally lay his eyes on the alpha caused Stiles to realize how tired Derek looked. Eyes bloodshot and face worn out, Stiles managed to feel a sting of pity before realizing Derek didn't want that. That Derek didn't need that.

"Really? Could have fooled me."

Derek's eyes were always a mystery. Granted, in the midst of all that ignoring going on Stiles hasn't had the opportunity to see them lately. But each time Stiles sees them, he is brought back to that night. He hasn't told anyone, not even Scott, how frequently he finds himself looking into Derek's eyes and remembering the scent of soil. Of a night with the scent of loss, of his adrenaline crashing as soon as it became apparent that the body wasn't _right._ That he had convinced his best friend to go looking for a _half_ of a _body_ and he found it. Stiles has lost count of the number of times he had wished he hadn't found her. Because it has been almost two years and he still remembers her eyes. Her eyes that looked exactly like Derek's, even in wolf form. He has yet to apologize to Derek for it. He doesn't think he ever will get the chance to.

"I... I just couldn't... It doesn't matter. I'm here now and we need to talk." Stuttering has never been a trait he associated with alphas but Derek is an enigma on all scales.

"Okay." Stiles tells himself the guilt he has thinking of that summer night has nothing to do with how easily he has forgiven the werewolf. It doesn't work.

"There's something wrong."

And Stiles truly thinks that's an understatement.

"The nemeton. It isn't like it was, at least it doesn't smell like it. I know it became active after the druid--" Derek stopped calling her Jennifer after her third sacrifice. "But it's just, it smells like it's actually moving. Like it's waiting for something and I just needed to tell you. I know that you are..."

Stiles waits for Derek to remind him of his link to the nemeton, instead what comes out is

"More sensitive to it. I think we should talk to the others. At least Deaton."

Sensitive.

That's an understatement.

"Fine."

Stiles was on a roll with obeying Derek's wishes and he honestly didn't feel like it was going to stop anytime soon. Not as if he wasn't trying. But saying no to a man like Derek Hale, knowing what he has been through, what has costed him his family and his life makes the response a little nerve wracking.

“Is that it? Did you just come to tell me the scary tree might start screwing with my life again?”

For a second, Stiles thinks Derek is going to say something more, maybe give a real reason why their communication ended so suddenly.

But he doesn’t.

”Yes, that’s it. I’ll let you know what Deaton says.”

 

And then he’s gone.

The window remains open like it always does and Stiles stands still. This is his life. Werewolves crawling through his window in the darkest hours of the night to warn him about a less than average tree. It’s ridiculous really how many things that exist in his life that he can’t control but instead control him. How is it possible that he can’t remember the last voluntary decision he made that he wasn’t afraid would end in the loss of his life or the lives of the people he loves.

The cold air hits Stiles and reminds him he should probably shut the window. He even locks it as if that will keep whatever's out there from coming in. Who is he kidding? It’s not about keeping _them_ out.

It’s about keeping him in.

* * *

 

Turns out that Derek talking to Deaton meant Stiles being there too.

After several attempts at avoiding going, he was trapped and was essentially dragged since Deaton believed that if anyone needed to hear what ever it was he was about to say, it was Stiles. Stiles didn't particularly like the self proclaimed vet. The man had a way of saying everything yet nothing in the same sentence. It was infigurating to say the least.

So if Stiles is being honest, he would gladly never speak to Deaton if the option was present. But like always, it isn’t.

“So what does the big, bad tree want this time? Another sacrifice?”

“No.” Deaton responds bleakly. “The Nemeton seems to still be searching for an energy source of some sort.”

“Sounds like a sacrifice to me. Maybe Derek can call up another one of his girlfriend’s?”

Derek’s eyebrows lower. He is not impressed. In Stiles’ defense, he isn’t either.

“Not a sacrifice. More of a balance. It isn’t directly searching for a life. It seeks something a bit deeper. Since it has just only recently been brought to my attention, I am not sure how long it has been going on. But it is seeking to create balance, and to do so, it needs a source of energy.”

“Excuse me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the nemeton an energy source itself?”

“Yes and no. It was, hundreds of years ago. It has only recently been reactivated, reborn if you will, it hasn’t had enough time to regain to the full power it once was. It needs another.”

Stiles feels his teeth start to clench. They shouldn’t of reawakened it. Granted Jennifer had been responsible for beginning the process, he, Scott, and Allison had been the ones to welcome it. And it wants more? Is that a joke?

“Does it want me?” The slight husk in his voice lets no room for imagination regarding his feelings on the matter. He wishes he never said anything in the first place.

Deaton hesitates and that’s answer enough.

“Yes and no. Like I mentioned earlier, it doesn’t want a sacrifice. It just needs a little… help is all.”

“The last time I got involved with the nemeton, I ended up welcoming an evil spirit that almost killed half of my friends. So I hope you can understand why I’m not the most eager to help it.”

"I'm not in anyway suggesting you have to do it, but it will find a way. I recommended to Alpha Hale that he keep watch on you and the others to avoid any... pressures from the Nemeton for the time being."

Stiles, for the first time in days, laughs. An all too cruel laugh. A laugh laced in wolf's bane, a laugh that even he wants to cower from. How is it that Derek manages to be pressed into his life time and time again? Into every crevice, every empty space. He can't even directly look at the man in the eye without thinking of untold apologies and the ghosts of eight year old children.

"What is Derek going to do? Sing my nightmares away? There's nothing he can do to help."

"I can make sure you don't go insane and run through the woods in search of the damn thing again." Derek shrugs with an eye roll. He remains calm and stoic, even after hearing Deaton practically say that the nemeton is going to get its hands (or in this case roots) on Stiles one way or another. Then again, Stiles doesn't matter to the Alpha so of course hearing this wouldn't affect him. Stiles didn't expect him to care. Of course he didn't.

"Fine. Stare into my bedroom window while I sleep, see if that makes my neighbors and dad happy."

Deaton, seemingly proud of the outcomes of this meeting, nods his head and proceeds to explains that Stiles should avoid the nemeton and the woods in general. He dismisses them after that and Stiles gets back into his car with Derek on his trail. As if the nemeton would all of a sudden lead Stiles to it.

Dramatic that's what it is.

Stiles pulls into his driveway and waves at Derek as he gets into the house. Supposedly, Derek had planned to be on "Stiles' watch" for the night while Erica was watching Allison, and Isaac watched Scott. When asked about Boyd, Derek simply said that he was his right hand man and was on standby in case of emergency.

Stiles glanced at Derek one last time before slamming his front door shut.

Just because he allowed it, doesn't mean he had to like it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will be where things officially begin!! Needed a sort of bridge before diving in. Hope it works out! Fingers crossed the next chapter doesn't take a month to upload again so give me 2 weeks? Thanks for all the kudos by the way! :)


End file.
